


The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship

by PolysDoItForSCIENCE



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darts, Drinking, Friendship, M/M, Team Sass, Yes I just named Darcy and Clint Team Sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:51:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolysDoItForSCIENCE/pseuds/PolysDoItForSCIENCE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint couldn’t help the sigh of relief when Ward stood up to go to the restroom. He did, however, almost spit out his sip of beer when a mess of hair and a pair of fantastic boobs plopped into Ward’s seat, </p>
<p>	“You know, if he’s gonna blatantly ignore you for Mr. ‘Look At Me, I’m a Norse God’ over there, you should totally dump his ass and come hang with me.” Clint stared. “After all, I am much better at keeping track of wayward scientists and crazy blond trees then that poor excuse of an agent you’ve gotten teamed up with.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship

While the amount of beer (and shots) his targets were putting away was quite impressive, Clint Barton, agent of S.H.E.I.L.D., was quite effectively bored with his stakeout. Coulson had charged him and a tiny newbie by the name of Ward with following Erik Selvig and the unknown blond bodybuilder after they left the compound.  
  
 The two had made at once for a bar where they had a quiet discussion before they started throwing back beer like it was water, complete with shots. After an hour, they were still going strong and Clint was contemplating using the dart board to teach Ward how to look in conspicuous when tailing someone….well, he was thinking about using the darts. Honestly the little newbie had no idea what he was doing; he kept staring at Selvig and Not Dr. Donald Blake as if he stared hard enough, he’d be able to hear their conversation.

Clint couldn’t help the sigh of relief when Ward stood up to go to the restroom. He did, however, almost spit out his sip of beer when a mess of hair and a pair of fantastic boobs plopped into Ward’s seat,

            “You know, if he’s gonna blatantly ignore you for Mr. ‘Look At Me, I’m a Norse God’ over there, you should totally dump his ass and come hang with me.” Clint stared; it was Dr. Foster’s assistant, the political science major, Darcy Lewis. “After all, I am much better at keeping track of wayward scientists and crazy blond trees then that poor excuse of an agent you’ve gotten teamed up with.”

  “…..Holidaywhobewhaty?”

  “Oo! You’ve seen the Grinch!” Darcy squealed, bouncing a bit. “You are just too precious for words, can I take you home, little S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?”

That shocked Clint out of his stupor.

  “While I would love to say yes, I’m married,” he said with a smile.

  “Oh boo,” Darcy pouted but he could see her eyes sparkling. She didn’t want to sleep with him, which was actually a really refreshing change. “I guess I’ll just have to settle for a game of darts. Unless you think your wife won’t find out.”

  “Husband actually and he will. He always does, even when he’s not on a mission with me.” Clint stood and gestured back towards the dartboard in the rear of the bar. Ward scurried up right then, looking frantic when he saw the older agent was standing. “Go on home, Newbie, I can handle the stake out from here on out.”

  “But, Agent Coulson said-!”

  “Just let me handle Agent Coulson, you get some rest.” Darcy had her hand over her mouth and was obviously giggling madly. Ward looked torn. “That’s an order, Agent.”

The title had the opposite effect on the new guy. Sorta.

  “Agent Barton, you appear to be about to reveal classified information to a civilian, I am going to have to report you.”

  “Great! Why don’t you go do that?” The girl was definitely losing it. “I’m sure Agent Coulson would be thrilled to hear your observations.”

Oh, Phil was going to get him for that one. Ward’s eyes lit up and he shot out of the bar. The moment the door closed behind him, Clint’s companion removed her hand and put her head down on her arms, laughing outrageously. Clint glanced back at the bar, his targets were still drinking.

  “iPod thief is gonna get you for that,” Darcy half sang, getting herself under control. “You are gonna be on the couch for at least a month.” She snorted at his look. “Oh please, you said your husband was on this mission with you and that he finds out everything. QED, Super Secret Agent iPod Thief is your husband.” She took the hand he held out to help her from her chair. “I’m Darcy Lewis, political science major and assistant to Dr. Scatterbrain, but you already knew that.”

  “Clint Barton, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and how did you know that anyway?”

Darcy snorted as they headed over to the dartboard,

  “This town has a population of 2000, and the only new people lately have been a guy claiming to be a Norse god and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and no offence, honey but you aren’t over the top enough to be a Norse god.” She scowled at some guys who were already playing darts. To Clint’s amusement, they immediately put the darts down and scattered. She grinned at his look. “I take my darts VERY. SERIOUSLY.” Gathering the darts up, she held out the purple ones. “I’m green, you get first throw.”

 

 

Clint Barton was very good at what he did. He could aim perfectly when he was completely shitfaced, losing blood, and only had the use of one arm, and still hit his target. On good days, Phil called him the best he’d ever seen…okay Phil said that on all of their days, good, bad, mediocre, and FUBAR.

Yet this girl was pretty damn close to beating him at darts.

  “How are you doing this?” he demanded, trying to focus on the board. It needed to stop moving. “I am the best marks-, marks-, aimy guy! on the planet!”

  “My parents owned a bar,” she replied with a slight slur, aiming her last dart. If she scored a 60, she’d win. “And I’m easily bored so I taught myself darts.” She threw, and the dart hit the inner ring of the 18. “Fuck! Only a 54!” She twirled around to pout at him, eyes large and shining. “Can I get a re-throw?”

  “Hell no! You’ll probably make it this time!” Clint laughed, leaning on the table next to him. “You’ll put me out of a job!” In the glass of the framed poster, he saw Selvig struggling to stand and his companion giving him a hand. “Oh, Darcy, Darcy, Darcy, our time together has been far too short-.”

Darcy snorted, looking at the bar,

  “Oh please, Thor is gonna take Eric back to Jane, where upon they will make fools of themselves and then Jane will say something silly and Thor will do something gallant and then they’ll…. I don’t know but I hope they make out.”

  “Well I still have to follow them.” He winked. “Can’t end up on the couch after all.”

  “Oh please,” she snorted again. “With an ass like yours?”

  “I thought you hadn’t noticed,” he teased, turning around to look at her over his shoulder.

  “You’d have to be deaf, mute, and blind not to notice that ass! You can bounce a quarter off it.”

  “Actually you can’t.” Clint grabbed his coat. “Phil’s tried.”

  “Ooo! Agent’s got a first name! Oo la la!” Darcy was having trouble with her sleeves so Clint gave her a hand. Properly attired, she snuck an arm through his and batted her eyelashes at him. “Walk me home?”

  “As my lady commands.” As they passed by the bar, Clint took out two hundred dollar bills and put them on the counter. “For our drinks, keep the change.” The bartended was shocked, staring at the bills.

 They walked out, Darcy’s eyes wide.

  “Our drinks were seventy bucks; even leaving him a hundred would have meant you left him a 42.875% tip!” It was his turn to stare now. “I like numbers.”

  “And I used to work in a bar a lot like that one,” he replied, making sure to keep back from the two men stumbling ahead. “Selvig may have forgotten to tip, or someone else may not be able to tip properly because they’re broke, or some asshole may not tip at all. I don’t spend much money so it’s no hardship for me to over tip when I do go out for a bite or drinks because I know there are bad nights that usually happen when you need money the most. My little tip may make the difference.”

  “Your 'little tip' was nearly twice the bill,” Darcy said, snuggling into his side. “But I get what you’re saying. It’s cute.”

Ahead, Selvig stumbled a block from the RV. The blond bodybuilder (who Clint was still not calling Thor despite what his new best friend said) picked him up and swung the man over his shoulder as if he were nothing.

  “So where do you stay around here?” he asked, keeping an eye on his targets.

  “Hmm?” He repeated the question. “Oh, in the RV with Jane. I’m sleeping on the floor right now since Eric is here but it’s no big.” She stopped to look in the window of a closed jewelry store. “Ooo! Sparkly!”

As she oo’d and ah’d over the items, Clint’s phone beeped. Pulling it out, he saw that Phil had sent him a message.

‘Foster’s surveillance puts her and Thor talking on her roof. You’re done for the night. I’m on my way into town. See you soon. - PC.’

And then Clint had an idea. An awful idea. Clint had a wonderful, awful, idea.

  “Darcy, do you want to meet Phil?”

 

Phil Coulson’s day had turned into a series of goals. Reach the end of the day without making any of the new agents cry. Reach the next hour without using his taser on Agent Ward. Reach the end of a conversation with Director Fury without rolling his eyes. Recite the Bill of Rights without using his taser on Agent Ward. Write up his reports without making his agents sound completely incompetent. Make it to his car without using his taser on Agent Ward. Send a text to Clint telling him he’d see him soon. Drive back to the motel without running over Agent Ward.

He sighed gratefully as he pulled into the parking lot. The lights in his room were on so Clint was still awake. They’d probably have a bit of time to talk and make out before one of them succumbed to exhaustion.

The agent locked the car and headed to the door. He could hear talking on the other side; Clint had probably found a somewhat decent channel to watch while he waited for Phil.

Unlocking the door, however, he was surprised to find Clint was not alone.

His husband was sprawled on their bed, chugging a large bottle of water. Sprawled on a pillow on his lap was Darcy Lewis, who was holding her own water like it was a stuffed animal she was afraid to let go of. She was watching the television, which was showing some action show or something, there were two attractive young men in flannel and holding shotguns.

  “Agent Barton, what is Ms. Lewis doing here?” he asked, trying to look stern rather than amused.

Clint nearly spit out his water…his husband was drunk, quite drunk in fact.

  “Phil! Darcy, look, Phil’s back!”

The brunette patted the leg under her without turning her attention from the TV.

  “That’s nice, dear, now hush, Dean is about to do something stupid.”

  “Ms. Lewis-.”

  “Hush, Agent iPod thief.”

Phil shut his mouth abruptly. Clint had a besotted look on his face as he looked at the young woman. The older agent felt his heart twist in fear. Before it got too bad, however, the archer looked up again and held out a hand. Phil joined them on the bed, scooting to sit shoulder to shoulder with his man.

  “I love this girl, she’s like the sister I never had,” Clint said, patting Darcy’s curls. “Can I keep her?”

Darcy snorted, though if that was directed towards Clint’s comment or the show Phil had no idea.

  “I think Dr. Foster would object to you keeping her assistant,” Phil replied with a small smile.

  “But she nearly beat me in darts! Seriously, she lost by six points.” Phil had never lost by less than 15. “Please can I keep her? I promise to feed her, and walk her, take her shopping, and to her classes!”

  “No, Clint, she’s not a puppy.”

  “That’s right, no puppies here, nope,” Darcy popped the last p though she rolled to grin up at the two men. “You two look nice together.”

  “I see you’re drunk as well, Ms. Lewis,” Phil noted the glazed eyes.

  “Drunk I may be, but see the truth I can.” She waved her fingers a bit. “Give back my iPod, you will, or suffer greatly you shall.”

  “Is it easier to talk like Yoda when drunk?” Clint asked, looking delighted.

  “Totes.” Darcy rolled back to look at the screen. “I’m gonna sleep now.”

  “Okay, night, Darce.”

  “Night, Hawky.”

As her breathing evened out, Phil raised an eyebrow at his husband.

  “Hawky?”

  “So my codename may or may not have been revealed to a civilian,” the blond replied easily. His speech evened out, closer to normal, as his fast metabolism processed the alcohol he had consumed. “But I had fun. How was your day?”

  “You mean other than Agent Ward following me around, demanding to know how I was going to punish you for giving out classified information?”

  “Ooooooo, right, I knew I forgot to tell you something!”

Phil rolled his eyes fondly and pressed a kiss to Clint’s forehead.

  “We’ll talk about it in the morning?”

  “Looking forward to it, boss.” Clint slouched a bit, putting his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Are you going to give Darcy back her iPod?”

  “Yes and Dr. Foster will get her research back. I think she’s going to need it, and we’re going to need her.” Phil stared at the TV screen, not really registering what was on it. “I’m sorry your vacation got interrupted.”

  “It’s alright,” Clint yawned. “Wasn’t much of a vacation without you.” His eyes drooped closed. “You think the blond is really Thor?”

  “I don’t know,” the agent admitted. “It seems impossible, but there doesn’t seem to be any other conclusion. As Holmes says, when everything else is eliminated, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. And some part of me wants to believe he’s a god.” There was a soft snore in his ear. Phil smiled. “Good night, Clint.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even remember where this came from, I was just reading a bunch of Darcy fics and she and Clint got on so well.   
> Her personality drunk is based more off mine, as I tend to get really hyper and giggle and then pass out.   
> I couldn't resist sticking Ward in there, he and I are not friends. 
> 
> Title is from the last line of Casablanca, "Louis, this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship."


End file.
